When the snow falls crimson
by Diaed
Summary: Two hundred years ago she had been cursed with this life, two hundred years later their paths crossed again. He was not who he had been, nor was he actually him, but, she swore to protect him all the same. He was the Dragonborn, after all, and she was his Beast of Madness.
1. Helgan

**A/N: Special thank you and an apology for Janessa wolf - soul, again. Lets hope I stay motivated this time!**

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Waking in the middle of the night was not something he usually did and, tonight, something most certainly felt wrong. He scanned the room, trying to pinpoint what exactly had awoken him, but, in the darkness he could barely see. All he had to rely on was his hearing and, as far as he could hear, nothing was off. Suddenly he picked up on breath, faint and shallow, and as quickly as he noticed it there was a hand on his mouth and an Altmer looking down at him.

She pressed her finger to her lips before slowly removing her hand and lowering herself so her lips were by his ear, "Get up slowly and quietly," She whispered, "We need to get out of here."

"W-why? What's going on?" He asked.

"The Thalmor, they are coming, I have packed up and we need to move quickly. We need to move before we are in the range of a life detection spell." She climbed off the bed and hoisted a pack onto her back.

He climbed out of the bed, following her to the back door of the cabin; slipping on his boots and grabbing his sword as they slipped out. "Go ahead." She ordered and he complied, running off into the darkness.

She lifted a gold hand, fire forming in her palm, and she released it into the house; the orb of fire erupting and sending whatever was left of their belongings flying against the walls. She turned on her heels and quickly caught up with him. "Where are we even running to?" He asked.

"We will go to Bruma, re-supply and then..." She glanced at him, "We will go to Skyrim, the Thalmor should not bother us if we stay in Stormcloak controlled holds."

* * *

Bindings, tight on his wrists, cut through his tanned and weather beaten flesh and pierced the haze of his limbo. The pain was all that was certain for the first moment, shortly followed by the steady thump of his heart and the heavy horse hooves that clopped on at a steady pace. A jolt tore his from his limbo, the Imperials eyes fluttering open; light blurring and burning his vision in a painful mixture.

The Imperial blinked a few times to clear his vision, shaking his head to clear it of limbo's haze, and looked to the blonde Nord diagonally across from his. "Hey, you. You're finally awake." He spoke, meeting his gaze. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

He quirked a brow at this, looking over to the dark haired man who sat across from him. "Damn you stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy," He hissed, "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." The thief turned his gaze to Imperial. "You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brother and sisters in binds now, thief." The blonde Nord shot back.

"Shut up back there!" The Legion guard driving their cart barked.

The Imperial rolled his shoulders and adjusted his sitting position, grunting at the pain that echoed through his body. He felt fatigued and pained, having to grit his teeth to stop any real sign of injury from showing.

They were silent for but a moment, the thief looking around them, until the Thief settled his eyes on the gagged Nord by the Imperial side.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" The thief asked, looking over the gagged Nord.

"Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King." The blonde Nord barked.

"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion." The thief realized the circumstances and his eyes went wide. "But if they've captured you... Oh gods, where are they taking us?"

The blonde Nord turned his faze to the road ahead, letting out a breath. "I don't know where we're going, but, Sovngarde awaits."

The thief's face became twisted in fear and he looked from the blonde Nord to the Imperial in hopes that one could offer him some form of hope, but, he found none in either of their eyes. "No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening." The thief's shoulders sagged and he held his head best he could with his bound hands.

The blonde Nord looked at the thief in sympathy, "Hey, what village are you from horse thief?"

Swallowing the growing lump in his throat, the thief replied best he could, "Why do you care?"

The blonde Nord offered the thief a gentle smile, "A Nords last thoughts should be of home." He said softly.

The thief let his eyes fall to the floor of the cart, "Rorikstead, I'm... I'm from Rorikstead." He answered.

The Imperial turned his gaze to the front gates of the settlement ahead, the smirk that graced his lips not going unnoticed by the blonde Nord. "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" An Imperial Soldier called as the front gates were pulled open for the two carts of prisoners.

"This is Helgan, Right?" He asked the occupants of the cart, receiving a nod from the blonde Nord. "Shame I only ever got to see it once, Nirmarie always spoke of it fondly."

The thief began to spew names of gods, begging them for help, and it took the Imperial all of his willpower not to laugh at the poor man. The Imperial flexed his hands, ignoring the burning of the bindings as he did so, and observed as they rolled into the city.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor." The blond Nord growled, bringing the Imperial's attention to the meeting past the Nords back. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this." The Imperials eyes went wide for a brief moment, shifting so the blond Nord hid him from the Thalmor's view. The Nord quirked a brow at this but stayed quiet, choosing instead to reminisce on what life had once been for him.

The Imperial, though, paid it no mind as he was deep in plan. He was nothing if not clever and best of all knew how to get out of sticky situations. As the cart stopped and they stepped off, the horse thief pleading for his life as they did so, his plan had already been set in motion. One by one they were sent off to the block. Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm, was the first to join the others in order to wait for his execution, the second was Ralof of Riverwood, and the blonde Nord joined his leader without complaint. The third would have Lokir of Rorikstead, the Horse Thief, had he not run and been shot down by Imperial archer.

The list reader turned his attention to the Imperial still hanging by the cart, "Wait, you there, come forward." He obeyed, approaching the man. "Who are you?" He asked.

He seemed to not hear the question; choosing instead to study the crowd, "Jerric." He answered.

The list reader looked from him to the list and back, "You're a long way from the Imperial City. What're you doing in Skyrim?" He let out a breath, glancing at the block and then back to Jerric. "I'm sorry. We'll make sure your remains are returned to Cyrodiil." He sighed, "Captain, what should we do, he's not on the list?" He asked, looking to his Captain.

Captain looked him over, Jerric smirking at her, "What will it be, beautiful?"

She snarled at the Imperial, receiving a chuckle from him in response. "Forget the list. He goes to the block." The Captain ordered.

The list reader nodded, "By your orders, Captain." He returned his gaze to the Imperial.

He did as he was told and was led to Ralofs side. He let out a breath, rocking back and forth on his heels, "Nirmarie is going to kill me," he said under his breath as the Imperials went through their monologues and rights, the General being interrupted by the echo of a roar that was quickly dismissed.

As the priest began to speak their prayers, a red haired stormcloak stepped forth in order to shut up the robed woman. Just as quickly as he cut in he was executed, heavy axe cutting through his neck with ease. "Next, the Imperial!" The Captain ordered, though her order was interrupted by a distant roar that was, once again, dismissed. "I said next prisoner!"

Jerric approached the block, pushing aside the dead stormcloak with his feet. He fell to his knees, looking up at the axe man. He had only one shot at this and it required the uttermost precision.

As he and the Axe man readied themselves, Jerric could not help but note the odd, black beast in the sky that flew past. If he didn't know better than to doubt Nirmarie's stories, he could almost swear that it was a-

With that thought just passing through his head, the hulking black beast crashed atop the tower and threw the headsman off-balance. "So much for my plan." Jerric muttered as it opened its colossal jaws. The sound that erupted from it sent him flying, the Imperial crashing into the ground with a pained grunt.

He got to his knees, "Dragons, great." He groaned as she got to his feet, legs weak from the sudden attack.

"You, get up," A rough hand took his wrist, "Come on, this way." Ralof pulled him towards a guard tower, pushing him in before slamming the door shut behind them. "Jarl Ulfric, What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric growled.

"Not necessarily." He said quietly, "As much as I love discussing whether or not Legends can burn down, I think it would be in our best interest to move. Even though I am no dragon expert, I do not believe that a simple guard tower can hold against one."

Ulfric met his eyes for a brief moment before speaking, "Everybody, we need to move, Now!" Ulfric ordered.

"Come on," Ralof placed a heavy hand on Jerric shoulder, "Up through the tower."

He gave a brief nod of agreement before starting to run up the stairs, staying at Ralofs heels. The wall erupted in fire and debris, killing a stormcloak soldier. Once the fire subsided and the dragon flew off, Jerric narrowed his eyes and snarled at the now blocked stairwell and jogged up to hole in the wall and looked over the burning village below.

"There's an inn on the other side, jump through the roof and keep going. Go, we'll follow when we can." Ralof ordered.

He jumped through the hole in the wall, rolling when he hit the inn floor. Doing his best to correct himself with bound hands, he continued onward; dropping through the hole in the inns floor and stepping out into the ruins of Helgan.

"Hammond, you need to get over here!" The list reader called to the boy.

The child turned on his heels and ran to the old, armored man. Just as the boy reached the old man, the dragon crashed down onto the ground. Jerric roughly shoved the list reader away from its blast, slipping his bindings across his blade as he did so; cutting through the worn leather.

"You still alive prisoner?" He asked, giving his a quick once over, "Good, stay with me if you want to stay that way."

He chuckled at this, "I feel it me more appropriate to say that to you."

The two ran off, working their way through what was once Helgan; making their way to the keep. Arriving at the Keeps courtyard, the list reader stopped and snarled at the stormcloak in the way. "Ralof, you damned traitor, out of my way!"

"We're escaping, Hadvar, and you're not stopping us this time." Ralof spat back.

Both men shouted for his to follow them, running off to their own doors. Jerric turned on his heels, following Ralof into the tower. He slammed the door behind them, Ralof starting towards the dead body by a table. Crouching down, Ralof gingerly shut the dead mans eyes, "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." He said quietly before standing and striding towards the iron gate, "Take Gunjars gear, he won't be needing it anymore." He instructed.

Jerric crouched down and stole the man's boots, gloves, belt and axe; leaving him his armour. "That thing open?" Jerric spoke up, glancing at the Nord before he started to look around the room.

"No, it needs a key." Ralof growled, walking back to Jerric.

"Got a lockpick?" He asked.

Before Ralof could answer, the distant shouts of legionnaires reach their ears. "Imperial Soldiers, maybe we can take them by surprise." Ralof whispered, ducking to one side of the wooden gate. Jerric crouched by the other side, waiting patiently for the two, unsuspecting soldiers to pass through the gate. The moment the Captain was within striking range, Jerric had slipped the axe between the Captains helmet and armour; lodging the axe in her throat.

"Nice," He congratulated himself, taking the sword from her hand and the key dangling from her belt. Tucking the key into his glove he spun the sword around in his hand before driving it through the Imperial Ralof was fighting; catching the soldiers steel as it fell from his grip. He withdrew the blade, smirking to himself, "I was out cold just a bit ago." He sheathed his swords in Gunjars belt, pulling the key from his glove and tossing it to Ralof, "You can do the honours."

Ralof took the key to the gate, unlocking it, as Jerric busied himself with relieving the dead men of their gold and other treasures. "Come on," Ralof stated, "We should get a move on before the dragon brings down the tower."

"Lets." Jerric agreed, nodding and starting through the gate.

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**A/N: I appreciate what you have to say and will take into consideration all criticism. I can't get better if you don't tell me what's wrong :) I hope you like the first, re-write of the third copy, chapter!**


	2. Unbound

**A/N: Just a little notice to those who were unfortunate enough not to get the notification, I've gone back and re-written the first chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter and have a nice day!**

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Ralof was about to start down the hall when Jerric suddenly pulled him back, the ceiling of the hall collapsing in and blocking their path way. "Thanks." He muttered, looking to the door on their left.

"Not a problem," Jerric chimed, "We have a higher chance of getting out alive if we stick together."

Ralof smiled slightly and opened the door to the lower room, Jerric stepping ahead and spotting the imperial men arguing about supplies as they prepared to run. Jerric smirked, dropping low to the ground and glancing back at Ralof. "Stay down and stay quiet." He whispered, drawing his sword and slipping behind the Imperial.

Jerric slit the mans throat with ease, the officers words dying in his throat and drawing the others attention. He reacted, driving his sword through the Legionnaires throat, promptly killing him before looting both of their bodies. "That's all that's of any worth." He stated, pulling off his fur gloves and replacing them with Imperial bracers. Ralof nodded and the pair left the room.

Walking down the stairs, moving deeper into the depths of the escape route, Ralof felt almost as though he was not being followed by the Imperial. The other man moved so quietly it made him feel uneasy, like he would kill him at any moment, and though he tried to ignore this he couldn't. If Ralof thought back he could even recall sensing it on the cart, that feeling that he would kill him at any moment.

The roar of the dragon echoed down to them, dirt and old mortar falling down from the ceiling, "That sounds ominous," Jerric commented, "I wonder what that thing will do once it's done with Helgan."

Ralof glanced back at him, "Best not to - Trolls blood," He stopped himself short, seeing the torture chamber ahead and catching the sound of battle, "It's a torture chamber."

"Now _that_ is ominous." He stated, drawing the sword he had picked from one of the dead soldiers in the chamber behind them. A stray shot of lightning hurtled towards them the moment they reached the bottom of the stairs, Jerric simply pushing Ralof aside and dodging the shot with ease. "Spells are good, but," He charged in, driving his sword through the chest of the hooded Imperial Torturer, "They're worthless if you can't hit your mark."

Ralof burst in, taking on the other soldier, deflecting a blow before striking. Jerric retracted his sword and kicked the body aside before crouching down and patting down the dead mans pouches, "A little help." Ralof growled, narrowly missing a blow; forearm being cut in the process.

"You're doing fine!" He dismissed, looking up as a female Stormcloak charged in and decapitated Ralofs challenger. Jerric stood, meeting the woman's eyes, "Quiet the swing you've got there." He smirked.

"To Oblivion with you." She spat.

He raised his hands in defense, "So pretty but so deadly, just like a Nightshade flower."

"This isn't the time or the place." Ralof stayed, moving towards the hole in the wall, "Look around and see what you can find."

Jerric simply shrugged, approaching the cages, "Hey, nord,"He called out, tapping on the bars of the cage, "Got a lockpick? There's gold in here."

Ralof moved over to the cage, looking inside, before handing him four lockpicks and a knife. "Good thinking, we might need it once we get out."

Jerric knelt down, "I heard that, back in the third era, all people needed was just one lockpick to open locks." He stated, fiddling with the lock, "They didn't need knives, they just stuck the lockpick in and unlocked it." He stood and opened the cage door, picking up the gold and looking over the book on the floor before abandoning the body and book; following Ralof and the other Stormcloak further into the depths of Helgan. "Hey," He said, grabbing Ralofs shoulder to stop him, "Your arm is hurt."

Ralof quirked a brow at this before looking down and noticing the cut, "It's nothing-" He was cut short by the Imperials hand over it, yellow light blooming and healing him.

"Yeah, but, with all the dirt falling from the ceiling it might get infected," He muttered, pulling his hand away after a bit, "That should do."

"You never struck me as a mage." Ralof commented, looking at where the cut was.

"I'm not," He said, the group continuing onward, "My Guardian is, though, and she taught me some basic spells just to help me out in a tight spot." He looked to the female Stormcloak, "You don't have any injuries do you?" He asked with a smirk. She simply gritted her teeth and ignored him, "Are all the women in Skyrim as cold as her?"

"We were just attacked by a dragon!" She snapped, "How can you be so calm about all about this?"

Jerric simply chuckled at this, "I was just trained to stay calm under stressful situations. Besides, once you wake up in the middle of the night to an absurdly tall Altmer covered in blood looming over your bed, it's hard to be fearful of anything else." He caught the curious looking in Ralofs eyes, "Buy me a couple of drinks when this is over and I will gladly tell you all about it." They stepped through the hole in the lower tunnel, moving down to a lower chamber, "Great, more Imperials." Jerric muttered, before they engaged the Imperials waiting for them.

They were outnumbered six to three, but, still scraped by. Ralof had injured his leg and the female with them had died, leave just the Nord and The Imperial to continue onward. "We'll meet again in Sovngarde." Ralof whispered, closing the woman's eyes.

"Mourn the dead later, lets get out of here." Jerric ordered, approaching the short hall branching off from the chamber and yanking back the lever. Ralof followed him, the Imperial stopping him and healing the gash on his calf.

They crossed the bridge and stepped out into the earthen tunnel, Jerric letting out a breath as he glanced back at the bridge. With a thunderous war the cave ceiling above the bridge collapsed, crushing the bridge beneath it and blocking of the tunnel on the other side. "The survivors will have to find another way around." Ralof cursed.

They navigated the dimly lit tunnels of Helgan, fending off frostbite spiders and sneaking past a bear, and after what felt like an eternity they emerged to into the cold, bitter Skyrim air. Jerric cringed when he took in the fresh air, rubbing his hands together before breathing into.

"The air is hard to breath here." He hissed.

"What are you talking-" Ralof cut himself short, dragging Jerric down to a rock in an attempt to hide from the black beast that flew over head. "That dragon... Looked like it flew over the Barrows."

Jerric nodded before standing, "Listen, I'm usually opposed to splitting up, but, I have to make a run for it incase any of those Officers realised who I was," He held out his hand, "I hope our paths cross again, Ralof of Riverwood, under better circumstances."

Ralof took his hand, "Listen, if you need any help, just talk to my sister, Gerdur, she works at the Mill in Riverwood," He offered, "And, if you ever feel like fighting for Skyrim, you should come and join the Stormcloak Army in Windhelm. Any enemy of the the Imperials and those damned elves is a friend of the Stormcloaks."

"I'll keep that in mind, friend, stay safe." With that Jerric ran off, leaving Ralof to slowly make his way back to his home village.


End file.
